Chapter 5 Tanner #2
But his phone kept buzzing. Three more times in as many minutes. Each time, he’d glance at it, then deliberately redirect his attention to whoever was talking. His shoulders stayed angled toward me, even when Dev asked him about the team’s odds of a bowl game bid.
We were opposites in that way. He took up space naturally, while I spent most of my life trying to take up less.
The next round started. Seth leaned over to look at our answer sheet, his shoulder brushing mine. His phone lit up again on the table between us. I caught a glimpse of the name: Marcus.
Seth’s hand moved toward it, then stopped. He left it buzzing.
I forgot the question the host had just asked.
“You okay?” he murmured, low enough that the others couldn’t hear.
“Fine.”
“You’ve been avoiding me.”
“I’ve been busy.”
“Tanner.” Just my name, but the way he said it made my chest tight. “We should talk.”
“Not here.”
He was quiet for a moment, his jaw working like he was choosing his words carefully. Then he nodded, the movement tight. “Yeah. Okay.”
His phone buzzed again. This time, he picked it up, read whatever Marcus had sent, and stood. “I should get back to my friends anyway.”
“Seth—”
“It’s fine.” His voice was even, but something in his expression wasn’t. “We’ll talk later. When you’re ready.”
He squeezed my shoulder once—brief, warm—then made his way back through the crowd to where Marcus and the others were waiting. I watched him slide into the booth with his teammates, watched one of them say something that made him laugh, watched him pick up a menu like nothing had happened.
My chest felt tight.
“That looked intense,” Priya said.
I turned back to find all three of them watching me with varying degrees of concern and curiosity.
“It’s nothing.”
“That was definitely not nothing,” Jake said.
The host’s voice cut through before I had to answer. “Next question: In what year did…?”
I wrote down an answer I wasn’t sure was right and tried to focus on anything except the weight of Seth’s absence beside me.
Trivia wound down around eleven. The host announced final scores—we’d placed third, which felt like a victory considering I’d spent half the night distracted. Around us, teams were settling tabs and gathering coats. Jake stretched and yawned, already pulling up a rideshare app.
“I’ve got an eight a.m.,” he said. “I’m calling it.”
Priya grabbed her jacket from the back of the booth. “Same. Tanner, you need a ride?”
“I’m good. I’ll walk.”
“It’s over a mile and freezing out.” It wasn’t actually that cold, but anything under sixty was chilly to Priya.
“I could use the air.”
She exchanged a look with Jake that I pretended not to notice. “Okay. Text when you get home?”
“Yeah.”
Dev was already halfway to the door, phone pressed to his ear. Jake and Priya followed, leaving me alone in the booth with empty glasses and crumpled answer sheets. I should’ve left with them. Should’ve taken the easy out and gone home before—
“Hey.”
I looked up. Seth stood at the edge of the table, hands in his pockets. Behind him, I could see Marcus and the others pulling on jackets, clearly wrapping up their own night.
“Hey,” I said.
“Your friends left?”
“Early classes tomorrow.”
He nodded, then glanced back toward his teammates. Marcus caught his eye and made a gesture—you good?—and Seth nodded. Marcus said something to the others, and they started filtering toward the exit.
“Can we talk?” Seth asked. “Just for a few minutes.”
My throat went tight. “Yeah. Okay.”
The late October night was cool enough to justify the flannel I’d thrown on earlier.
We walked around the side of the building to the patio area—empty this time of year, string lights dark above wooden picnic tables.
I leaned against the railing and stared at the parking lot, trying to figure out where to start.
Seth didn’t push. Just stood beside me, close enough that I could feel the warmth radiating off him, waiting.
“I’m sorry,” I finally said. “For avoiding you. That wasn’t fair.”
“It’s not a matter of fair. I want to understand what’s happening.” He turned to face me. “Did I do something wrong? That morning on the couch—”
“I already told you that you didn’t do anything wrong.” The words came out too fast. “That’s not— It’s not about you.”
“Then what’s it about?”
Everything. Nothing. The fact that I’d woken up in his arms and had felt safe for the first time in years, and that feeling had terrified me more than the grief ever had.
“You were just supposed to be someone to split the bills. It was a relief that you weren’t a typical jock, but I can’t do this,” I said instead, gesturing vaguely between us. “Whatever this is becoming.”
His expression shifted. Something careful settling over his features. “Why not?”
“Because I’m barely holding it together as it is.” The words came out rougher than I intended. “The capstone, keeping up on my other classes, applying to grad programs— I don’t have space for anything else right now.”
“I’m not asking for space. I’m just asking you to stop running away every time we have a moment.”
“That’s the same thing.” I turned to face him. “You want something I can’t give you. Not now. Maybe not ever.”
The silence stretched between us. Seth’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t look away.
“Is this really about time?” His voice was quiet. “Or is this about what I do?”
My chest constricted. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Yes, you do.” He stepped closer. “We both know damned well you wouldn’t freak out at the slightest hint of attraction if I didn’t play ball.”
“That’s not—”
“Tanner.” Just my name, but the way he said it made my throat tight. “I know what happened to your father. I know why you can’t watch games, why you flinch when people talk about the sport. And I get it. I do. But I’m not asking you to be okay with football. I’m just asking you not to shut me out.”
“I watched it destroy him,” I said, the words breaking apart. “Watched it take everything he was and leave nothing behind. And I know— I know you’re different, I know you’re stopping after this season, but it doesn’t change what it represents. What it took from me.”
“I know.” His voice was soft. Careful. “And I’m not asking you to forget that.
I’m not asking you to come to games or pretend it doesn’t hurt.
I just—” He broke off, running a hand through his hair.
“I don’t know what I’m asking for. I just know that whatever’s happening between us feels worth exploring, and you’re scared, and I don’t know how to make that better. ”
The truth of it hit me like a physical blow.
He was right. I was scared. Scared of letting someone in when I was barely holding myself together.
Scared of what it meant that the person I was drawn to played the sport that had destroyed my family.
Scared that even if I wanted this—wanted him—I didn’t have anything left to give.
“I can’t,” I said, even though the words felt like giving up something I hadn’t known I wanted. “I’m sorry, but I can’t do this right now.”
“Can’t or won’t?”
I didn’t answer. Couldn’t. Because standing here in the October dark with him close enough to touch, I wasn’t sure there was a difference.
“I should go.” I pushed off the railing. “I’ll see you at home.”
“Tanner—”
“Please.” The word came out ragged. “Just…give me time. Let me figure this out.”
He looked at me for a long moment. Something raw in his expression, something that made me want to close the distance between us and forget every reason I shouldn’t.
Then he nodded.
“Okay. I’ll give you time.” He reached out and brushed his fingers against mine—barely a touch, but it sent heat shooting up my arm. “But I’m not going anywhere. And when you’re ready to talk, I’ll be here.”
The apartment was dark when I got there. I went to my room and sat on the edge of the bed, waiting for the sound of Seth’s key in the lock.
It came an hour later. Soft footsteps in the hallway. A pause outside my door, long enough that I held my breath.
Then he moved on. His bedroom door opened and closed.
My phone buzzed.
Seth
I meant what I said. You’re worth waiting for. Even if you don’t believe it yet.
I read the message until my vision blurred. Then I set the phone on my nightstand and lay back, staring at the ceiling, listening to him move around on the other side of the wall.
I didn’t sleep. Just lay there in the dark, trying to convince myself that the ache in my chest was better than the alternative.
It wasn’t. But I didn’t know how to choose anything else.